Sacrifice
by LR Earl
Summary: Hermione would not lose her former professor to Azkaban. Having just defeated the darkest wizard of all time, she refused to lose Remus to his grief. On a feral rampage after losing Tonks, Hermione runs into Remus in the Forbidden Forest, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice to curb the wolf's anger. For both, the consequences change everything. EWE AU Eighth Year
1. Sacrifice

_**Full summary**: Hermione would not lose her former professor to Azkaban. Having just defeated the darkest wizard of all time, she refused to lose Remus to his grief. On a feral rampage after losing Tonks at the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione runs into Remus in the Forbidden Forest, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice to curb the wolf's anger. The consequences for both change everything. _

_**Author's notes**: This story just keeps building in my head movies and damn if I won't put it down. I seem to have a thing for werewolves, can you tell ;-) I'll be the first to admit, I love me some Remus Lupin, but I wanted to challenge myself to write a darkish/fully-wolfed out!Lupin and this was the result. I hope you enjoy! Follow me on Tumblr for all my fanfic updates and other musings (see the link on my profile)._

_This story is DH compliant to point:_

_*Remus and Tonks are engaged only. They do not have a son at the time of the Final Battle._

_*Will have some HGxRW, but ultimately will be a RLxHG_

_Drama, angst, unresolved feelings, some professor/student scenes and sexual tension abound_

_**Warnings**__: Rated M for dub-con, explicit sexual scenes, language. You've been warned._

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter, the world or characters recognize within. That honor goes to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her world. Pure entertainment only._

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Chapter One: Sacrifice

The events of May 2nd could hardly be called a victory. The winds were quiet, content to let the stench of war and death linger about Hogwarts' grounds. The fields surrounding Hermione's school resembled pictures of World War II-torn London from her Muggle history books, except this time, the images were real. Hermione knew these people; they were her friends, her teachers and they were not supposed to die like this.

Once upon a time she imagined them all growing old, maybe coming back to teach the younger generations, laughing at old school-time antics, celebrating House victories, but now it was impossible to recognize the carefree school of her youth.

The bodies of Neville and Luna lay together in death, their short-lived romance cut off tragically by war. Fighting for her life had made her numb and while Hermione tried to conjure tears for her lost friends, all she could do was mechanically catalog the names of the dead as she strolled across Hogwarts grounds, memorializing them in her heart for private mourning later.

Neville Longbottom. Luna Lovegood. Colin Creevey. Nameless death eaters lay intermingled with her friends and she wondered briefly if someone would mourn their deaths. History never remembered the losers.

Hermione grabbed her arm, wincing at the slicing curse that had nicked her shoulder, grateful that she had turned at the last moment. Or else she would be among those littered upon the ground.

She had lost track of Harry and Ron sometime during the final fight. Harry had left to fulfill his destiny and square off with Voldemort; Ron and Ginny fought with their family. Hermione didn't know if she would ever see her newly minted boyfriend again; like so many others, they had sworn their love just before the thick of battle, the chance to do so not likely to pass again.

Separated from Ron and Harry, Hermione found herself fighting alongside Kingsley, the twins and Tonks. It wasn't until a great shout came from the front courtyard that she had heard the news of Harry's triumph. Voldemort was dead; evil had been vanquished.

If only that call could revive the dead they had lost. If only it could be that simple as a yell. 'Wake up, we've won, Neville,' she would say and he would smile goofily at her. Luna would wake up too and comment about being with her friends.

Swallowing a sob, the realization struck her like a stone to the gut. She would never speak with Neville or Luna again. Her numb feet took her on a course of its own, her trainers caked in mud and blood. The air was smoky, heavy with spellfire. She stopped before she tripped over a set of robes, a familiar set of robes.

Nymphadora Tonks lay facing upward, her eyes closed. Hermione did not have to check for a pulse to know she was gone. The killing curse left a distinctive mark upon its victims. Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione willed the tears not to fall.

_Later, _she pleaded with herself, wobbling on her feet. _They never said war would be fair_.

For an unknown reason she would dissect endlessly, Hermione turned towards the Forbbiden Forest. The sun had begun to rise with the new day, although no one felt like celebrating. Something led her into the forest; what, she could not say. Perhaps, she wanted a moment to hide from the world, from the grief that day was sure to bring.

It did not take long for her to hear it.

The further she moved into the forest, the more she heard its' pained cries. She thought at first it was a man, and readied herself for friend of foe. But no man had ever sounded like this. As she rounded a large tree, she had her answer.

Her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, sat on his heels, howling in mourning.

She knew Remus Lupin had only seen her as a student, perhaps a little bothersome, but nothing more. And while she grew in years, he never once looked at her more than a student, then a fellow Order member. Once upon a time, she had dreamed of something more, but that was the folly of youth.

The war closed in on them and she gravitated towards Ron, while he grew close to Tonks. Hermione had heard they were engaged last year, about to be married, but now that would never be.

Her former professor's robes were shorn; he struck at the trees, and a vicious howl chilled her to the fiber of her being. She halted her approach, not daring to get any closer.

This was not the man she knew. The genteel professor from her youth, her first plausible crush. Yes, there had been Gilderoy Lockhart, but then there had been _him_. Everything in her gut had convinced her years ago that they were perfect for each other. They were equally alike in intellect, manner and spirit.

But the man before her now was more animal than man. The full moon was more than a week off, but his eyes were a fierce yellow. He scratched at his face, ribbons of blood mingled with the tears of his grief.

She recognized it immediately, her mind returning to her old essay on werewolves from years past, when the war was just a distant illusion. Werewolves who lost themselves to their curse completely were call 'feral' wolves. They were more beast than man, even outside of the full moon. Her old professor had given in to his animal, the wall between man and wolf shattered.

In his grief, he had gone feral, the thought of being ripped from his love too much to bear. Some werewolves never came back once they went feral. Remus had explained to her once that it took a lot of self-control to keep the wolf from taking over completely. Yes, the animal took over during the full moon, as per the curse, but it was a constant battle to keep the animal at bay the rest of the month. But now Remus had consented to his wolf rather than feel any human emotion ever again. Hermione could feel his pain as the man staggered about the forest.

Seeing his agony finally made the tears she had been holding back fall free. Here was a man who had lost his friends once before only to have them returned against hope. He found a love he didn't think possible only to have the war cruelly tear her from him. He was all alone again. A man could only take so much.

Remus howled again, baying at the loss. Silence answered him. Even the magical, ever sentient forest would not answer his calls today.

But Hermione knew through years of conversation with the cursed man, that Remus would not want to live like this. He held the greatest control she had ever seen a wizard, magical creature or not, possess. After that event in third year, Remus valiantly made sure to never lost control again. Hermione hesitantly took a step forward, eager to help, but her foot snapped a twig.

The crack of a branch resounded through the forest and the feral wolf snapped its neck towards her. The sun was high above them, but no sunlight pierced the canopy of the Forribben Forest. Hermione felt an unnatural cold snake over her skin.

"Professor…?" she tried.

But Remus only growled in return. She tried again, hoping to appeal to the rational man lost beneath the surface. She just knew Remus was still in there. Perhaps, she could reach him.

"Professor, I-I know you're hurting. I am so sorry about Tonks –"

But the wages of war ran hard upon them all and even Remus, arguably the strongest man she knew, could not stand the loss of yet another love.

At the mention of his dead fiancee, Remus howled again. It was a frightful thing, even more than when he had changed before them during her third year. It was full of longing, hurt and the deepest pain.

Hermione worried her lip between her teeth and bravely continued, "But, if you don't… if you don't calm down, the others will find you. It is too fragile a time to be caught like this." While she knew Harry and the others would understand, there were still some who were distrustful of werewolves. Now that Voldemort had been defeated, they would be quick to turn on anything that posed a danger to the peace just established. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry," she pleaded again, reaching a hand towards the man she knew was inside.

But the wolf in him just cocked his head at her, as if he didn't recognize her.

"Professor, it's me," she swallowed, tears running down her cheeks in earnest. "Please. I don't want to lose you, too."

The wolf wearing Remus' body lifted his head and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. His bright eyes stood out amongst the harsh scars marring his face he had given himself. She would have though his eyes beautiful if not for the cold calculation behind their glow. Unsteadily, a thought whispered in the back of her mind. It was a dark whisper full of possibility, but no guarantee.

But now was not the time to research theories. Not when a man's life, a man's sanity hung in the balance. Dropping her wand to the ground, Hermione hesitantly reached up and unbuttoned her jacket. She kept her movements slow and deliberate as not to startle the sharp animal. The wolf tracked her movements and cautiously, she let the jacket drop to the ground beside her wand.

Now that she had his attention, Hermione lifted trembling hands to the hem of her shirt, sweat and grime making it hard to clear her head. The wolf approached her at an angle, his movement too fluid for an ordinary man, as she disrobed.

Fumbling with the snap of her jeans, tears blurred her vision as she realized what she was about to do. But she would do this for a friend, she reminded herself. A friend who needed to be brought back from the recesses of his mind. A friend she did not want to lose to the wild call of his heart. And Remus J. Lupin was a friend.

She had barely shrugged her jeans past her knees when she found herself pushed to the forest floor, the unforgiving ground knocking the air out her lungs. Remus pushed his nose in her throat, inhaling deeply again, this time his nose trailing over her bra, down her stomach towards the junction of her thighs.

She would be willing, she thought as she blinked to trees above her. Rough hands tore at her bra. The painful metal pulled at her back as he ripped the garment from her whole.

Gone was the quiet, gentle man she admired from afar. Further gone was the man who calmly explained things with the wisdom of someone older than thirty-seven years. And gone was the fantasy of sharing her first time with her sweet Ronald.

Remus pushed two fingers into her womanhood, the sensation abrupt and jarring. He could smell her musky scent and the intensity in his eyes darkened as he delighted in what she was about to offer him. He pumped the digits into her mercilessly and despite her internal mantra to remain calm, she found herself slowly responding to his ministrations.

As one hand worked her core, the other slapped and grabbed her breast, kneading the pale flesh and sensitive nipple between his fingers. She cried out, but it was not in pleasure. God, it hurt and she turned her head away from him, no longer wanting to look upon the wolf masquerading in Remus' flesh. She heard the sound of belts unbuckling and pants being removed. The sound of her knickers ripping to shreds alerted her to what was to come next as Remus edged her thighs apart.

She was given no warning. She was given no time to prepare and just as quickly, hard flesh tore her lower half apart. She burned from the inside out and automatically her body tried to retreat the intruding member steadily pushing deep inside her.

Hermione scooted back on her elbows, whimpering in pain, but a strong hand pushed her shoulder down. She fought, but his strength overpowered her as he pulled out of her only to push further in, her barrier no longer hindering him. He repeated the movement, over and over rutted against her body. The forecful thrusts dragged her back against the dried branches and leaves.

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying against hope that this was not in vain. That this pain would soon past. Her eyes flew open when she felt a hand lift the flesh of her left breast. Multiple pricks surrounded the delicate underside of her breast and it was then that she screamed, long and raw; but Remus did not let go. His tongue laved the bite mark she now wore, a painful reminder of who she had given her virginity to. The tenderness on her breast paled against the torment aching from her center. Remus howled with her, long after her throat had burned closed.

God, what had she done?

The man above her shuddered, once, then twice, losing himself to the pleasure her sore body provided. She barely inhaled it hurt to breathe. Remus collapsed on her smaller frame and she groaned as his body brushed against old and new wounds. Some wounds would be healed magically; the ones he had given her would not.

His cock hummed within her, as he lay panting for air. Her arms, which had felt like dead weight before, moved away from him, scared to touch her former professor. Had the man returned… or did the wolf want more? She swallowed audibly as she tested her vocal chords.

"Professor…" her voice sounded meek and she hated it. She hadn't broken before Bellatrix's wand nor Dolohov's curse, but sadly, her Gryffindor courage had stumbled under Remus J. Lupin.

"… Oh God," a bemoaned voice above her spoke. "Gods, what I have done?" Remus pulled back to look at Hermione, watery brown eyes gaping at her in shame.

But Hermione had no answer. Tears fell out of the corner of her eyes and she shook her head, messy curls falling in front of her. The gasps started small at first, then they doubled in frequency and no matter how hard she tried, she could not take in enough air. Panic held her tight in its grip.

Remus pushed to his elbows above her, his eyes wide in horror shock. "Are.. are you alright?" he ghosted on a breath, his hands tracking dirt over her shoulder. She would sink into the earth to move away from him, but the ground forced her close to him. Although, his eyes were no longer yellow, the wolf in recess for now, the memory was still there. Evidence what he did to her body remained.

Remus looked down between them to see their intimately joined flesh and swore. "Forgive me! I didn't mean," he stumbled and pushed back to his knees. Hermione felt a gush of warm liquid fall out of her and she didn't have to look. She didn't want to see the blood of her innocence all over her thighs, all over his member. Remus quickly unsheathed his wand and muttered something under his breath. A gentle warmth spread over her nether regions like warm butter. She could almost hear the man's thoughts, he was muttering to himself so loud. "A contraceptive and healing spell," he answered her unspoken question.

She wanted to laugh ruefully. The man she offered to save was the one healing her. Her limbs felt detached from her person and she wanted slip into unconsciousness. Merciful unconsciousness. But her wish was cruelly mocked as her body allowed her to feel every sensation. Dimly, she heard Remus gather her clothes and re-dress her as best he could.

Now he was being attentive to her needs. _Foolish girl._ Did she think he would go easy on her? That he would delicately placate her crush and take her virginity with a gentle ease? She mourned intensely now. Fat tears ran behind her ears into the earth below. They did not stop as the man who used to be her professor, the one she held an crush for five years, bent to gingerly pick her off the ground.

He cradled her now like some precious treasure, whispering things her mind would not let her comprehend. She floated in and out of awareness. She did not fight to stay awake, looking past Remus' torn clothes; her body could take no more.

As they emerged from the Forbidden Forest, the sun did nothing to ease the cold spreading like ice water within her veins. She was numb; good, she did not want to feel. Clever girl. Thanks to her, the wolf had been tamed, the man freed. But at what price? Before her eyes fluttered closed, she swore she heard the voices of her now deceased friends. 'Wake up, Hermione,' they called. But all she heard was mocking for her thoughtless actions.

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_To be continued... _

_Please review! I love hearing what you think :-)_


	2. Awake

_Author's note: Thank you so much for all the alerts, favorites and reviews. I'm tingling with giddiness! I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am!~_

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Chapter Two: Awake

Even though the young woman was light in his arms, the petite witch was a heavy burden on his heart. There were very few regrets Remus carried in life. He had failed Sirius twice; that night after James' murder and again, when he wasn't quick enough at the Department of Mysteries. Failing to block the killing curse that ended his fiancée's life was another. As he staggered into the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the unconscious girl limp in his arms, he carried his third.

The young Gryffindor foolishly stepped in at the worst possible moment. He cursed her naïveté. His heart, fractured at Dora's death, had splintered the hold he held over Moony. It had simply been too much to bear. Padfoot was no longer there to join him; his closest friends were dead or fighting for the other side. And the brief glimpse of love, the future he had dreamed about, slipped away in a brilliant flash of green.

"Remus, over here!" a disembodied voice called from the side, drawing his attention from dark thoughts. Remus shifted Hermione in his arms and hastily made his way towards the medi-witches delivering triaged care. He walked with a limp, his leg injured, but gave no thought to it; his concern lay with the witch he carried in his arms. He pushed through students, teachers and Aurors milling around; they wore similar solemn masks.

Tables had been pushed aside as remnants of the Light made makeshift beds to lay the injured. Opposite the divide, there was a similar line for the deceased.

"Hermione!" Ronald Weasley shouted as he noticed the pair of Order members from the front entrance. Remus laid the lifeless witch on a makeshift pallet, just as the youngest Weasley son rushed to her side. "What happened to her?" he rushed out, pushing hair out of her face.

Remus swallowed gravelly, tasting the lie on his tongue. "She was injured during the last of the battle. I believe she was hit in the arm, but nothing too severe as far as I can see." He prayed his tone was convincing enough, but it mattered little to Ron as the red-head focused his attentions on the witch before them. Part of him wanted to scream the truth, demand they shackle him in chains for his egregious offenses against the curly-haired witch and haul him away with the rest of the captured Death Eaters, but all he could do was take a step back as the people who cared about her the most gathered round her bed.

Before emerging from the Forest, Remus did his best to clean them both. He could barely stand to look at her, grateful that she had succumbed to shock shortly thereafter. He didn't think he could live with the glare her of accusatory eyes.

Harry Potter approached the herd of Weasleys surrounding her. Remus could not help but smile, thankful his best friend's son had made it through alive. He pulled the younger man into an embrace and the two shared a brief moment of solace.

Harry released Remus with a twisted grimace, nervously twisting his wand. "I heard about Tonks," he stammered. "I'm sorry -"

Remus cut him off with a polite wave. "It's okay," he swallowed with difficultly. Moony sought to be free now that he knew Remus' weakness. Glancing down at Hermione, he thought of her sacrifice with a sigh. He wouldn't be standing here now without her bravery. He reinforced his mental barriers and attempted a placating smile. "Dora and I both were aware of the risks long before today. I will miss her, but I will be alright," he quickly assured the young man and himself. Harry had far too much to deal with; he would not allow the young man to add his pain on top of it.

He silently watched the group reassure themselves of Hermione's well-being. The medi-witch confirmed that Hermione was just unconscious and would arouse shortly. Remus ducked his head in disgrace. Partly-delighted and partly-ashamed the Healer did not detect the unseen injuries; Remus knew he had come this close to being caught. He half-expected the Aurors to arrest him for surely the heavy scent still on his person would be a dead giveaway. But to his advantage, the average wizard could not smell it, but it taunted his nostrils relentlessly, a delicate mix of jasmine and spring.

Watching Ron stroke her hand, Remus' body flushed with heat. The prickliest sensation scattered across his shoulder blades and they hitched in response. He had the queerest feeling to push them away from the witch. The sensation overcame him so fast; it was enough to make his mind spin. He fisted his hands to stop them from moving towards his wand. Where was the protective sense coming from?

He surmised it stemmed from the lingering guilt, but his wolf laughed at him in vain. Shaking his head, he backed away, his eyes drinking over Hermione's form before another voice broke his train of most confusing thoughts.

"Remus! I am so glad you're okay," his old friend Kingsley greeted him. But there was no time for further niceties. "I'm afraid I need your assistance, my friend. We need to round up the remnants of Greyback's wolves. With their Alpha dead, the pack has disbanded. The Ministry does not want to lose track of the stragglers that have defected. I'm afraid the Ministry will need some of your expertise," he asked kindly.

No, the Ministry would not want wild, dangerous wolves on the loose, he thought ruefully. Remus curtly nodded, allowing the wizard to turn and lead him away. He had hoped … what _exactly_ had he hoped? That she would awake and forgive him? That she would be okay with the brutal assault he had just laid upon her person? He doubted the young witch would ever want to speak to him again. The ramification of what he had done full caught up with him. He did not know what to think. Pressing the heel of his hand into his chest to ease the dull pain beneath the ribcage, Remus followed Kingsley past the rest of the survivors into the courtyard.

Perhaps it was better this way? Maybe her consciousness would allow her to repress it all. But as the ache deepened the further he moved from of the Hall, even Remus knew that was a lie.

His wolf paced within the recesses of his mind, ready to escape. His animal came out at the height of passion: in the midst of battle, mating, or on the hunt. And if his services were required to hunt down the remnants of Greyback's pack, then he would allow the beast to be free, if only in this instance. It was a delicate balance and sacrifices were necessary to remain more man than wolf.

No one would ever know about the temporary release that almost made his lose his humanity. Hermione Granger had seen to it.

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Hermione awakened with a start and a gasp. She sat upright, a stone cold floor beneath her back, half-expecting the forest floor to greet her, not the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"Whoa," Ron exclaimed, taken aback. "Easy there. I'd reckon you'd taken quite a tumble out there." He gave a lopsided-smile, happy she was finally awake.

She cut sharp eyes to Ron. "How did I end up here?" she questioned, scared to death that he knew her awful secret. She pulled the blankets closer to her person, as if it would cover the shame. Her eyes watered. "Please," she begged in a small voice, her hand tight on the sheets provided.

Ron's brow furrowed at the uncharacteristic uncertainty coming from his girlfriend. Nothing Hermione ever did was uncertain. "Remus brought you here about an hour ago," he answered.

Hermione looked around hesitantly, searching for a tall brown-haired wizard. "Is he still here?"

His head shook in the negative. "He left with Kingsley soon after." His eyes narrowed as he appraised her skittishness. "Why?"

Why indeed? Hermione knew a conversation was sorely needed, but she didn't expect one right this moment, did she? She rationed it would be best to get it out of the way soon. But a small part of her, that part that was still afraid of things that went bump in the night, told her to wait.

"No reason," she deflected, picking at the fibers of her coverlet. Soon, others stopped by with hugs and well-wishes. It became too much however, when Molly began fussing over her. Aside from a little soreness, which subsided with the pain-relief potion, she was physically alright. The scar on her arm had been mended. Her bra was ruined, but her shirt and jacket covered that fact. Insisting she was fine, Hermione left the triage corner of Great Hall, adamant to help join in the search for the missing. There were others who needed care far worse than she.

So, she joined Harry and the others in the effort to round up the remaining of Voldemort's followers. The days melded into a blur after that. There was memorials erected, the Order of Merlin was awarded to several Order members and posthumously to Professor Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Alastor Moody and Tonks. The Ministry sent a detail to Hogwarts to help with the rebuilding efforts. Minerva was insistent upon a return to normalcy and didn't dawdle in erasing what the Carrows had instilled the year before. She vowed to have the school ready by the end of summer.

The start of summer brought a lush green and long days. Even though the sun warmed them all, it wasn't enough to reach the darkest of places.

One afternoon, Hermione lounged with Ron, Harry and Ginny in the tall grasses of the Burrow's backyard three weeks after the final battle. They had just returned from the last funeral for a member of the Light. Hermione was so very tired of funerals; she was tired of grieving. But crying meant she was still alive and while it hurt to grieve, she took solace from the fact she still could show emotion. Many of her fellow soldiers in arms were forever frozen in sleep.

A few weeks back, Hermione couldn't help but notice during the memorial service for a beloved Metamorphmagus, a certain former professor was not in attendance. She squeezed Ron's hand particularly hard the morning of Nymphadora Tonks' funeral, seeking comfort of a different kind, but Remus had not shown to Tonks' funeral. Her heart hammered in her throat at the thought to having to face him then. But it wasn't to be. She hated acting so cowardly at the thought of facing someone she cared about. Time had healed her body's aches of losing one's virginity so recklessly, but it did very little to heal the emotional scars that were just beginning to show.

After the Great Battle, she slept fitfully. An anxiety she could not place took hold of her night after night. As the moon built to its height, the anxiety only worsened. She found herself awake one night pondering the porcelain orb hanging high in the sky. She knew she was not going to shift, Remus had not bitten her as a werewolf, so the curse couldn't have transferred to her.

Then why was she feeling like this? She had half a mind to question Bill Weasley, a victim of Greyback's, but that would draw too many questions she was not yet ready to answer. So she researched the expanse of the Black family library while visiting Harry at Grimmauld Place to ease her mind. Her friend questioned her well-being, as they all did of late. But they all recovered from the war in their own way, and Hermione would not share this with Harry. She had thought about it, but thought he would find it too egregious a betrayal to Ron. Sometimes, she did too, although her heart argued that she had done it for a friend. But if her internal dialogue couldn't convince her, then surely a conversation with the boy-who-lived would only further muddle things.

The first full moon after the Great Battle, instead of the usual anxiety she thought would come, she was surprised to find a great melancholy take hold of her. It lodged deep within her heart cavity and she tried to grab the muscle through her night shirt, but the pain would not abate. Tears that were not from pain fell as she lay awake, bathed in moonlight. It was absolutely horrid. A pain so deep, but not from a discernible injury. Sleep would not come that night, as she lay listening to Ginny sleep soundly. Despondently, she waited for the sun to rise.

Pepper-up potions became a constant companion. The one currently circulating through her system allowed her to listen to the conversation between her boyfriend and Harry.

"A week from today!? You're serious? Don't you think that's a bit sudden?" Harry asked, twirling a piece of grass between his fingers. He sat crossed legged on the dirt, Ginny's head in his lap.

Across from Harry, her boyfriend Ronald answered, "Mum doesn't think so. Says 'we need something to celebrate' with all the funerals lately. Can't say I disagree with that fact." They were quiet for a bit after that assessment.

After a moment, Ginny sighed. "I think it's romantic actually," she offered from Harry's lap, a pool of red spread out across his jeans. "Never imagined it'd be Fred to take the plunge first, though." She absentmindedly braided a string of her hair, staring off into the sky.

Ron sniggered. "It's probably because Angelina's up the duff."

Hermione turned her head towards Ron, her eyes wide. "Angelina's pregnant?!"

The red-head nodded. "After we got back from the Ministry yesterday, I overheard Mum and Angelina speaking about having a ceremony before she starts to show. Apparently my brother and she had some quality time right after Easter." He laughed outright.

"Quiet, Ronald!" Ginny chided. "They probably thought there wasn't much time left. I'm sure they weren't the only ones," she replied cryptically with a sly smile. She shared a private glance with Harry.

Ron grimaced, "Please, say no more."

Hermione echoed his sentiments to which Harry laughed in return. A lot of young couples had taken the plunge in the days leading up to the final battle. It there was ever a time to take things to the next level, right before you died seemed appropriate enough. Like Ron, Hermione didn't want to inquire on the status of her friends' relationship. But gathering by the intimate caresses Harry gave Ginny, then it was likely the two had consummated their relationship … perhaps more than once.

Hermione leaned into Ron's side, allowing him to pull her closer. His hand rubbed the small of her back. As a fledging couple, they had a few conversations on how far to take their relationship in between funerals for their friends and medal services. Ronald grew impatient, arguing they already had a six-year courtship. In his eyes, there wasn't exactly a need for a waiting period. And before May second, she would have agreed with him. But after her encounter with Remus… Hermione wasn't so sure.

It would be so easy to replace the memories of Remus' violent attack upon her person with Ron. Maybe it would be the catalyst to lift this perpetual depression she was stuck in. But when the moment came when the two could finally be alone, someone always interrupted them or an urgent matter needed their attention.

Ron grieved the lost of their friends as well. Like any couple, they should seek solace in each other. While it seemed plausible on the surface, Hermione was not yet there. The foursome sat quietly among the summer sun, content to just be for the moment. It wasn't long before Molly called Ginny back in the house, no doubt to prepare for wedding activities, leaving the Golden Trio alone.

"So, are you heading for Australia?" Harry asked, once Ginny headed indoors.

That was another thing she was dodging as she considered Harry's question. "I will soon. I'm mostly afraid they will be upset with me for modifying their memories."

"But it was for the best," Ron argued beside her.

"_We_ know that, but they won't see it that way. It's an enormous breach of trust that I used magic on my parents without their knowledge." She looked off to the side. "Maybe they're better off where they are." Abruptly, she stood, another wave of something she couldn't define enveloping her. "I'm going inside, it's too hot out here." Dusting off her shorts, she headed for the interior of the Burrow.

Ron's admission about Angelina expecting threw her for a loop. Dropping a hand towards her flat stomach, she clearly remembered Remus had made sure that there would no physical reminder of what they've done, but still? What if it the spell didn't take? Could that be a reason for all her recent moodiness, depression and the like?

Part of it was attributed to grief/shock they all were struggling to emerge from, that she knew, but this was deeper. She had never experienced this before, and who knew; it could possibly stem from a pregnancy. Something had attached to her soul, staining her unconsciousness into insomnia. Running upstairs into her and Ginny's empty room, Hermione swiftly performed the spell Madam Pomfrey had taught her classmates back in sixth year.

She worried her bottom lip as the light spell entered her abdomen to return … in the negative.

Hermione dropped her wand on the floor and promptly sat down on the bed. She should have been happy. But oddly, she wasn't. Something else was making her feel this way and it wasn't hormones caused by gestation or an illness brought on by lycanthropy.

Absentmindedly, Hermione rubbed her hand over her left breast. She seemed to be doing that more and more of late. Why wouldn't this ache recede? Was she doomed to spend her nights restlessly tossing and turning? What was happening to her?

As if entering a fog, the walls closed in around her. Swiftly, Hermione grabbed her head and held it between her knees, oxygen became hard to swallow as her throat constricted. She screwed her eyes shut and recited the works of Charlotte Bronte to herself, as her parents had taught her when she was a child. Before she knew she was magical, she had been mercilessly teased for occurences of accidental magic by her schoolmates in primary school. It got so bad that she started to have panic attacks at the age of seven. With the help of her parents and a school counselor, Hermione developed a tool to her calm her racing heart and mind when no one else was available.

Since she started at Hogwarts, there wasn't a need to hold her head between her knees anymore as she had finally found acceptance.

"_A tender grief that is not woe/And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish/Now cause but some mild tears to flow,_" her voice floated into her ears.

She thought stressing over NEWTS in sixth year and the war would exacerbate the attacks, but Harry had need of her and the attacks all but disappeared. In a way, she was grateful for the distraction.

But this situation with Remus left her confused and the lack of sleep made her delirious. Slowly the floorboards stopped moving and her sight righted itself. Her breathing regulated, she halted her recital, and mutely dried the tears that accompanied the attack with the back of her hand.

"Hermione, dear!" Molly called from below. "I need your help for a moment."

"Coming!" she strained not to let emotion leak into her response. The weariness that that often accompanied her attacks meant she would need another pepper-up potion soon. Either way, she had to get to the bottom of this. The war would only mask her depression for so long. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the Weasleys and the world discovered what truly had left her stricken.

She vowed to start after Fred and Angelina's wedding.

* * *

_*Quotes from Charolotte Bronte's 'Evening Solace'_

_To be continued…_


	3. A Wolf in Man's Clothing

Chapter Three: A Wolf in Man's Clothing

* * *

When Remus was just a lad, his greatest fear saw his parents carting him off to the nearest forest to suffer the full moon alone. The fear grew as month that passed. They never did, of course. Both his mother and father proclaimed to love him no matter what.

From his mother, acceptance and love came easily. Despite being so young, Remus could see the ill-effect the curse had upon his father. Lyall Lupin was initially ashamed of his son after that awful attack. Fully believing the hysteria around werewolves at the time, young Remus did not miss the late night visits to their house from exiled shaman and Healers. They came in the dead of night and spoke with his father in hushed whispers about possible remedies.

When no such remedy was found, for Remus changed the very next moon, his father had sunk into despair. Stuck in a perpetual depression day in and day out, it took nearly two years for his father to come around. It took a toll on his mother; she was left to prepare a safe place for Remus to transform every month. Since they could not visit the local Healer, lest the village discover his condition, she had to tend to painful wounds on her own. She had the inexplicable task of explaining to her son why scars were littered upon his person the next morning he awoke.

It was hard to comprehend at age five why one woke up with bite and scratch marks all over your body. It was difficult to explain why he couldn't be around his mates and neighbors for a few days out of the month. He overheard his mother one afternoon explaining to a childhood friend a 'terrible illness' as the reason he couldn't come out to play one day. Remus had looked on behind the window of his bedroom.

Every time the full moon would approach, Remus would pray when his parents came to get him that would be they would be there when he awoke. After all, he was part-animal, down to his core when it came to it. At his young age, he wouldn't have been offended if Hope and Lyall Lupin had abandoned him. He would later learn that most parents of bitten children did just that.

But they didn't, Merlin bless them. They raised him to the best of their ability despite his curse. They taught Remus his life had value and while wolf would forever be a part of who he was, it would not define the man he would become. He had believed such a lie, in spite of society's prejudices, until the height of the Great Battle.

Breaking his thoughts, Remus looked to the right quickly, the light from the campsite fire painting his face orange-red. His acute hearing had picked up a noise in the distance. As always, it was his turn to take watch as Kingsley and an Auror-counterpart from the French Ministry of Magic, Bagot, slept inside a small tent they had erected in the middle of a vast forest. They were about twenty kilometers, give or take, outside of the city of Rouen, France, tracking the remnants of Fenrir's pack. They kept in contact with both Ministries (the Department for International Cooperation and DMLE, their primary contacts) as they passed through the Wizarding village just outside of Rouen. Any werewolves they caught were immediately sent to the Ministry via Portkey. But this far into the countryside, there wouldn't be any Muggles about so late into the night and suspiciously, Remus peered into the darkness.

There was no further movement to draw his attention. But still, Remus remained on guard. As he looked into the low fire keeping him warm outside his meager robes, he absent-mindedly compared its strength to the great roaring fire of Gryffindor's common room. He was immediately taken back to the best time of his life, hands down.

During those years, Remus held onto the belief that he was stronger than his wolf outside of the full moon. His beast would often whisper to him, tempting offers to let the baser instincts free were a constant companion. But he was a human first and foremost, his mother's reminder stuck between his ears every year before he set off on the Hogwarts Express; he would not give in to the nature of wolves. It was exactly what Wizarding society expected and he went to great lengths not to give them fodder. When the world found out his true nature, they thought him the literal 'wolf in sheep's clothing'.

Sardonically, Remus laughed aloud at this. He rolled his eyes, while Sirius' voice in his head made an ill-advised quip. It had always been easier to laugh with James, Sirius and Peter around; laughter was meant to be shared.

It was times like these that he really missed his friends.

But not even his closest mates at Hogwarts knew the true extent to which he wrestled with his wolf. They knew and experienced the outwards effects of his curse, provided cover for and company during those most difficult days, but he had been too ashamed to share this intimate aspect with his comrades. The fear he would lose the only allies he had locked his mouth. Remus feared they would think him weak; a nearly-adult wizard who wrestled daily with a wolf's desires. He had come close to spilling it all the night of Sirius' unsuccessful prank, the blood lust that had cloaked him frightened Remus more than he realized.

The wolf had almost been set free. Afterwards, his wolf would cruelly taunt him knowing his confidence was shaken. His wolf impressed a mantra relentlessly upon his psyche.

_They only see you as an animal anyway._

_There is no use denying me._

_Mate and hunt. Mate and hunt._

It was a constant battle not to give into the repeating mantras, especially on those dark days leading up to the full moon. But Remus always emerged the victor and each succeeding month brought more confidence. He thought he had nearly wiped out the dueling voice when he met Nymphadora Tonks. She had dug a hole into his impenetrable armor and he found himself gladly on the path every upstanding wizard should. He was to be married, with maybe a family to call his own someday. It wouldn't be perfect, but he would fight to protect the small hope building in his mind's eye.

Remus' short-lived hope was dashed the morning of May 2nd, as he agitatedly stroked the fading fire with his wand. Shockingly, he hadn't lost hope the night they lost Sirius, or the night of the Potters' murder, but Remus did lose hope the night he lost his Dora; he willfully gave into the wolf's pleas for freedom.

In a desperate moment of grief, the barrier snapped. Unchecked, the wolf had been set free. It didn't matter that it was not the full-moon; the psyche of his wolf was out for blood. And the damage he could have caused … Remus soured at the possibility.

And cruelly, his constant companion licked at him. _It's not like you enjoyed it, _his wolf whispered.

Rubbing a weary hand over his bearded face, Remus had finally come to realize the truth of it. He hadn't easily accepted the mission to disappear with Kingsley because he was not ready to face the world without his fiancée. And though a heavy burden, he did not run because of the shame that came with the knowledge of what he did to Hermione Granger. No, Remus had run away from the thought that surrounded him like a stench the morning he carried his fellow Order member, unconscious, through the Entrance Hall. He had enjoyed the pleasure her body offered immensely.

At first, he had been quick to assign the pleasure fully to his wolf, for no sane wizard could get pleasure from so forcefully taking the virginity of a friend, even if she had come willingly.

But it had been _his_ body that had been aroused; it had been his body buried deep within her tight warmth. Remus repressed a shudder at the memory. The taboo feeling was never far from the edges of his memory; nightly, it replayed behind his eyelids. One morning, he had awoken after such a vivid recollection, the evidence of his arousal regrettably all over his night shorts. He had volunteered for the night shift ever since.

The small whimpers she gave as he sunk into her over and over taunted him during the daylight hours. While they tracked their targets, Remus could swear the trail was laced with jasmine and Spring, although there was nothing remotely close to her scent this deep in the wood. Her scent scornfully mocked him. His body was beginning to yearn physically for release, as it did every approaching moon. So when Bagot and Kingsley turned it for the night, he ashamedly found relief at his own hands. Gods, he had become depraved. He sank further into misery after he had _vanished_ the visible stains from his hands. The unseen stains clung to his soul.

As they continued to search the expanse of the forest, Kingsley tried to approach him, thinking Remus was mourning his fiancée and needing an ear, but it was the furthest from the truth. Remus was grieving, but he wasn't grieving a lost love. He was grieving the loss of his humanity, for he had given into his wolf, dishonored his parents' memory and sacrifices, and took pleasure in hurting a dear friend in the worst way. All the while, his wolf had howled in delight.

For while Hermione Granger may have saved the wizard the morning of May 2nd, her sweet sacrifice fractured a carefully constructed barrier between man and wolf.

There was rustling behind the trees again, closer this time and Remus turned his head sharply with the sound, his eyes narrowing in the dark. His hair nearly covered his sight, the need to groom lacking among the wilderness.

Stealthily, Remus rose from the ground; he could feel his wolf stir relentlessly within. There was someone out there, watching him; something not native to these lands as he tasted a putrid scent across his tongue.

His wand slid down his forearm and he exchanged the light of the fire for the darkness of the deep wood. He knew he should have awakened Kingsley and Bagot, but they would never understand the thrill of the hunt, the need to prove that he was stronger, and faster than others around him.

His breath quieted as he crouched down among the low-lying shrubbery and his wolf's mantra thundered behind his ears. It lit his blood on fire. He inhaled again, the scent stronger as he drew closer to his target. The werewolf was young, scared he could tell from his rapid heartbeat, or maybe he was anticipating the fight to come.

_Mate and hunt. Mate and hunt_, his wolf was relentless.

And by Gods if he could not mate the way he wanted, then he would not deny himself the satisfaction of the hunt.

The lone werewolf attacked first; he threw himself at Remus instead of dueling like a wizard, teeth bared and hands clawing. Remus was deliciously surprised. For he would have easily subdued the man with a hex, but he had sought out this physical encounter and re-sheathed his wand. The two met in clash of fists and limbs and they rolled among the trees. Night fowl fluttered away as the two fought on the ground below.

The younger werewolf was weak from many days on the run; there was no pack to protect him. Rapidly, the younger werewolf lost his stamina as the struggle ensued. Remus' heartbeat thumped in time to his blood lust. It wasn't as if he hadn't killed before. Surviving two wars meant one had to be faster than your opponent. It was either kill them or they would get back up and kill you. He had learned that lesson the hard way. There would be no prisoner sent to the Ministry tonight.

The straggler flayed and struggled as dirty fingertips pressed into the soft flesh of the man's throat. There was something to be said for using magic in war. Magic was quick; a flash of green and the life was snatched from the victim's eyes from a safe distance.

Remus' opponent pleaded with his eyes now, the fear bleeding from the corners as the chance to escape shrank. The hands scratching at his wrists slacked in intensity as a blurry quality bled into the man's eyes. Remus kept his grip tight about the man's throat, his own breath shallow. Sweat accumulated between his fingers, but his grip did not abate. He had the strongest compulsion to throw back his head and bale into the night the moment his opponent collapsed back to the earth, his eyes forever frozen in fear. He paused, the thought that there may be others waiting in the darkness halting his instinct.

Remus pushed off the man. Lifting the heavy body by the collar, he dragged the corpse of his would-be attacker across the forest floor, the air chilled with silence.

As Remus emerged from the thick of the woods into glow of their campsite, he wasn't surprised to see Kingsley and Bagot searching for him, wands drawn and at the ready. They froze as they watched a body appear behind him.

"Found one," he huffed, his breathing gradually returned to normal. That was all the explanation he was willing to give before he dropped the carcass of man onto the ground.

His longtime friend stared at him as if he had never seen him before; most likely surprised that Remus had not followed protocol. But Remus did not care.

The wolf had begun to take ahold.

"By chance, do you have any Portkeys on you?" Remus asked roughly. Silently, Kingsley produced one and tossed it his way. Remus caught it. Quickly, he unwrapped the old bottle top and touched it to the man's chest. He stepped back before he could be taken with it.

"Maybe it's time we return back to London?" Kingsley started, unsure.

"But the other wolves …" Remus trailed off, sensing the man's hesitation. "What about them?"

The Auror gave Remus another questionable once-over before replying carefully, "They can wait. But it may do us some good to take a break. We've been on their trail for more than a month. Besides …" Kinglsey waved a recently delivered letter in one hand. "I hear some celebrating may be in order. We've been invited to a wedding. The Weasleys, next week, it seems."

Remus' ears perked up at the same time his wolf sat up in attention. Jasmine and Spring tickled his nose once more.

* * *

Hermione found it easy to smile. It was effortless when surrounded by the glowing couple and their well-wishers. Of course, it helped that best-man George had charmed Fred's wedding band to slowly turn his whole hand purple. For the remainder of the ceremony and the celebration thereafter, Fred proudly shook everyone's hand with purplish-red fingers. Some of who shook his hand thought it diseased and pulled away with the most awkward expression. It was enough to make Hermione laugh outright.

It felt good to laugh with her friends again, as she sipped on a glass of elf-wine Harry had purchased for the entire wedding party. The celebrations smoothed away the war-torn weariness that had etched onto their faces over the past year, glimpses of the young men and women they should have rightfully been peaked through.

Of course, they still felt the absence of friends who would not join them this evening or in future celebrations, but the night remained light as they gathered to toast Angelina and Fred Weasley.

Hours later, they danced under a magically-enlarged tent, the music and wine ever flowing.

Hermione was dancing with a slightly tipsy Arthur Weasley, beaming as he re-counted the tale of Fred and George's birth, when she felt it.

The quickest squeeze and release of her insides; it was as if her entire nervous system had unexplainably pinched. She stumbled at the sensation and lost her footing as Arthur twirled her, but he brushed it off as simply too much imbibing. But she knew it wasn't the influence of libations that had caused her to stumble.

Turning her head a breath before the entry flaps of the tent parted, her eyes widened as she watched Remus Lupin enter the reception alongside Kinglsey Shacklebolt.

_He_ wasn't supposed to be here.

She had heard from Harry that Remus and Kingsley had taken a Ministry convoy across the Strait and onto the continent to round up stragglers from Greyback's pack. Remus hadn't been heard from in over a month. Cowardly, she thought it was for the best.

Out of sight, out of mind. And for a while, it had worked.

Hermione and Ginny lost themselves in the minutiae of wedding planning with Angelina and Molly. While the ache in her chest had not completely subsided, it was easily ignored while she focused on other things.

But now, her chest thundered painfully as she squeezed the free hand holding Arthur's.

"Oh, look!" Arthur exclaimed, the red on his face nearly matching the red on his crown. "Remus and Kingsley made it. Thought the owl wouldn't be able to find them, wherever they were. But intelligent animals, they are!" But his words were drowned under the thudding of her heart.

Remus looked rangier than the last time she saw him, but then, he was not himself the last time she saw him. His hair had not been cut and he looked gaunt from his trek across the continent. His robes were a little worse for wear, but no more than usual. Try as she may, Hermione could not stop from locking eyes with his across the room.

Time and music slowed. Her heart beat did not.

Quickly turning back to face her dance partner, she watched as Arthur's mouth moved, but no sound came forth.

She was going to have a panic attack; she could feel the edges creeping in once more. Squeezing her eyes shut, Arthur spun them, the wine and movements making her lose her center.

He was here. _He was here! _her mind screamed. But Hermione had faced Bellatrix's wand, a fire-breathing dragon, countless death eaters and survived. She could survive this.

Resolved, she forced her eyes open. She would not lose herself to emotion right now. She was an adult when she made her decision. She would handle the repercussions as an adult.

So when the man who had never been far from her thoughts politely tapped Arthur on the shoulder to seamlessly take his place, Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep her mouth from impolitely falling open.

The band conspired in their need to speak as the music slowed to a mid-tempo song. He reached for her and the contact made her heart stitch. Her hands grew clammy in Remus' calloused ones. Hermione scrutinized the dirt under his fingernails, a distraction not to look into his searching eyes.

"How are you, Hermione?" The question reached her ears and she swallowed thickly.

"Fine," she answered rather shortly, focused on his hands. But she never liked to be rude without reason and immediately, she looked up apologetically. "I've been better," Hermione admitted, taking in his appearance. His tired disposition suddenly broke as a half-smile appeared at her admission.

"The story of my life," he responded wistfully. The two moved easier than Hermione imagined given their recent history. But she was not entirely comfortable. Remus kept a light hand respectfully above her waist; it clutched at the thin fabric of her dress every so often. The other practically enveloped her free hand. The rough patches of his palm rubbed against her soft skin. The contrast provided a welcome distraction to focus on. How did he receive them, she wanted to ask. Did his hands always feel this way? Had Crookshanks stolen her tongue tonight? She berated herself for not finding any polite conversation to hold with her former professor.

Finally, she questioned hesitantly in a low voice. "A-are you alright? I heard about your mission." An eye rose from his fingernails to Remus' face, as she tracked the slightest facial tick across his bearded jaw. Was he just as nervous as she?

"I've been better," he mimicked her earlier response. Hermione couldn't help it. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Sighing, Remus continued, "You've never been far from my thoughts these past few weeks, I will admit. That night," his face darkened with unexplained emotion. "I've always loathed this curse, but that night, I truly became a monster for hurting you." Remus inconspicuously looked around, mindful of their current audience. "I am staying at the Weasleys for the night. Perhaps we can speak later … after the party?"

Hermione could only nod politely as their dance came to an end. Ron came to collect her and still her voice would not return. He pulled them towards a receiving line and Hermione feigned cheeriness as she applauded the newlyweds. But her stomach was full of rocks and her throat tasted of sandpaper.

The new husband and wife picked an appropriate sendoff: they boarded a broomstick and took off into the night amid a spectacle of fireworks. The crowd waved them after them, cheerful colors reflecting off their faces.

In two quick beats of her heart, the reception had ended. Guests mingled and spoke with the parents of the bride and groom. Bill and Fleur chatted happily with Harry and Ginny (who had caught Angelina's bouquet), while Ron laughed as George mocked Percy and his date, Audrey from the Ministry. Ron tossed a heavy arm across her shoulders causally.

Could anyone read the apprehension behind her smile? Did they know what conversation had just occurred? By the group's boisterous laughter, Hermione surmised they had no clue what just occurred, nor did they care for the conversation about to come.

While everyone was distracted by the fireworks, Hermione turned to look over Ron's shoulder, her eyes searching and finding Remus' outline as he walked into the long grasses.

Her chest gave a sharp ache and this time the feeling was distinct: she wanted to follow him.

_To be continued…_

* * *

_A/N: Again, thank you all for the feedback! I'm so happy you're interested in the story. As I mentioned earlier, this story will feature a multi-faceted Remus we haven't seen before. Parts of him will be the same … others, not so much. I tried to keep to character, but let's face it; he's losing pieces of himself. Will he get them back? … I haven't decided yet, I rather like him this way. Let me know if you do as well (or not)._

_I plan to drunkenly read your reviews as I celebrate my xx th birthday with a glass (es) of wine :P Cheers! Drinks all around!_


	4. Paramour

Chapter Four: Paramour

* * *

It had been too easy to sneak away after the party died down. Most were too inebriated to keep track of their own shoes, let alone her whereabouts and after kissing Ronald on the cheek, Hermione slipped off to trail behind Remus.

She pulled her shawl closer to her person, the summer night cool under the stars. Thankful she had something to occupy her hands, Hermione wandered close to the boundaries of the Weasley home. She had not yet felt the tingling sensation that informed her she had crossed the boundaries of their property.

There was a brief moment when she thought herself foolish for venturing this far alone. But this was Remus, he wouldn't purposefully hurt her. The war and other things made her paranoid, but she quickly brushed it off.

_Although a part of him has hurt you already_, a dark voice whispered before she could censor it. Hermione had been coping in the aftermath on her own. She thought she was doing just fine before her former professor decided to show tonight. She may have been doing a poor job of it truthfully, but more time was needed before she was completely healed. And Remus Lupin had thrown a wrench in that process the moment he showed with Kingsley earlier that evening.

And why had her body reacted in such a way? It was as if her body had jumped to attention before he actually showed. How had she known he was about to enter the reception tent? Just like how did her feet know to stop right before the trunk of a massive tree on the outskirts of the Weasley's property? She peered strangely at the large oak as if trying to seek an answer within its dense bark.

She stepped past the wards, letting the tingle wash over her bare arms and legs before she said aloud, "I can't tell you how aggravating it's been to have no one to speak to about this." She waited amid the night air as Remus appeared from behind the very tree she had stopped in front of. She bit back the need to frown. "I can't speak to anyone about it without feeling ashamed. It's a wretched feeling."

Remus said nothing to this so Hermione continued, "Something … happened afterwards. Something I can't explain and initially, I thought to research the solution. But _this_ isn't something I can look up easily in a book." And suddenly weeks' worth of pent-up hostility flew forth. "No one's been through what I have as far as I can tell. I couldn't possibly explain this to a Healer without incriminating _you_. Speaking to Mrs. Weasley was out of the question. My parents don't even know I exist, so that's not a possibility. I was completely _fine_ dealing with this in my own way," Hermione lied through her teeth. "And then you have the nerve to show up here tonight." She looked at Remus accusingly, fiery tears clouding her amber eyes. "_Why_ did you show up tonight? You couldn't have just left well enough alone." Emotion clogged her throat.

"Do you want me to leave?" Remus spoke for the first time, appraising her for a reaction. The question was sincere enough.

Hermione bit her lip, willing the tears back. She would not let them fall, not until she said all she had come to say. "What I want is to feel the way I felt before. Yes, we all have all experienced loss throughout this war and I would never presume to imagine what you felt that night." Hermione swallowed as Remus bristled across from her, but continued nonetheless, "But you …**hurt**… me," she finished weakly. She lifted heavy eyes to his. "I would have never expected my greatest torment from this war would come from my own side," she admitted aloud.

His shoulders deflated at her admission. Remus stuffed his hands in his pockets, but not before she saw them flex and curl into fists. He turned away from her, not looking her in the eye. "You should have killed me, Hermione. I would have never done such a thing if I was in my right mind."

Hermione shook her head sadly, tightening her hold about her cotton shawl. "You know as well as I that magical spells have a reduced effect on werewolves. You would've needed twenty of me firing on you at once to stop you. I did the only thing I could."

"The only foolish thing you could!" he spoke harshly, cutting her off unexpectedly. Remus spun back to face her and stepped forward in the moonlight. An arm's length separated them. He stared down at her and she felt woefully undressed in her red party dress. "You would have been better off letting the others take care of me," he stated solemnly.

"You mean by letting the Ministry capture you, or worse, kill you," she answered heatedly.

"Then you would not have to live with the knowledge of what I've done. Of what I'm _still_ doing to you. Hermione, you have to understand, after I learned of Dora's loss, I had nothing else to lose at that point. Nothing would have brought me back. I lost the will to go on," he finished quietly.

"But it worked?" Hermione asked naively to her former professor. She raised a hand up and down his person. "You're here … and you're _you_, right?" she slowly tasted the question.

He laughed bitterly in response. "I don't know what I am anymore," Remus muttered beneath his breath, lowering his head. Taking a breath for courage, he raised his head, looked her directly in the eye and asked the burning question. "Why? Why did you do it?"

Hermione swallowed against a lump in her throat, her heart rate rising sharply. "I told you why."

"Naïve, little girl," he scolded her mildly and took a step towards her. She stepped back, keeping the same distance between them. "I asked you earlier, do you want me to leave?"

Hermione couldn't find her voice, but shook her head in the negative. How easy it would be to banish him from her sight; he seemed willing enough and if she could speak the words, perhaps then both of their problems would be solved. But she was, if not anything, a stubborn witch.

"I'm not scared of you. Should I be?" Hermione stuck her chin out for confidence and queerly, the older wizard chuckled. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.

"Perhaps, it would better suit you to find someone else to speak to." He dismissed her. "I would not blame you if you did and would accept any consequences that may stem from it."

Hermione dropped her chin, perplexed by his sudden change in mood. "You've already facing so much as it is. Even with Voldemort defeated, prejudices have been hard to cast aside in our world. No matter my difficulties stemming from our … encounter, it would be unfair of me to add more to your plate, especially since I … I was willing," she stubbornly finished.

Remus visibly flinched at her 'willingness'. No one was willing for what she had gone through, even if she couldn't admit it, he could. "Don't be a martyr, Hermione. I'm not a house-elf. I'm dangerous. It would best you remember that." He was growing weary of their discussion, she could tell.

But Hermione persisted, hesitating on the decision to grab his arm. At the last moment, she decided against it. "You're not _dangerous_, Remus. You were caught in a moment of grief. It's happened to us all over the past year."

Both fell silent, lost in remembrance of what they had lost. But even in the middle of death and pain, beautiful things could be found.

Quickly, Hermione picked up the conversation again, not yet comfortable with the silence between them. Twiddling with the frayed ends of her shawl, she added, "And even if I must admit how painful, and not to mention how incredibly awkward this conversation has been, I _am_ grateful I can talk about this with you."

Remus gave a cautious smile and they stood shoulder to shoulder watching the moon hung high overhead. The half-moon brought differing feelings for them both. Remus stood, resentful towards the pale orb, the bane of his existence; Hermione thought it serene and beautiful.

"Although I have to admit…" she trailed off uncomfortably.

"What is it?" Remus encouraged from beside her.

"Why does it hurt? Where you bit me … it aches sometimes." Hermione absentmindedly rubbed the twinge away from between her ribs. She did not see Remus' gaze linger just above the top of her dress.

"What do you mean, 'ache'?" Remus ventured, intrigued. Surely, he remembered the bite he had left on her left breast as his wolf had climaxed inside her.

"It's healed somewhat, but just so," Hermione mused to herself, her eyes lost to the sight above. "I've had a terrible time trying to hide it from Ginny. We share the same room, you know," she rambled, searching the stars overhead for familiar constellations. "Sometimes, it feels like it's literally burning from within. It was particularly bad a few days ago at the full moon. I felt this great longing and sadness. It wasn't mine, but I could feel it just the same." Her head dropped back down, a penseive look scrunching her face.

_That_ had Remus raising his brows. Slowly, she turned to face him. Maybe he did not remember the moment at all judging from the look of horror on his face.

"Is something the matter?" Hermione probed, disturbed at the sheet of white Remus' face had become.

Instead, Remus just stared at her. His gaze flitted nervously from her neckline to her eyes. His own narrowed as if coming to a decision. He took an experimental another step towards her; she immediately took one in the opposite direction. Nervous at his shift in mood, Hermione sidestepped him again when he took another step closer. Her heartbeat, once calm and manageable, struck up a fierce tempo.

"Remus…?"

There was no answer.

"Professor?"

Remus had backed Hermione to a tree and she had one fleeting moment to berate herself for so foolishly trusting this man once more. She was trapped.

Hermione felt small; a finger's width separated him from her. She could pick out the individual reddish whiskers across his neck as he inhaled and exhaled through his nose.

Breathlessly, she asked, "What are-?"

"What do you feel now, Hermione?" Remus' eyes searched her face frantically. "Quickly, do not think about it, just answer me," he ordered swiftly. The intensity drew her gaze from the hand that hovered just above her head on the tree back to his stern eyes. She could have sworn she saw a flash of yellow in its depths.

Hermione closed her eyes, and swam through a torrent of emotions. Every emotion under the sun fluttered through her at that moment and she could have listed them all as true. Fear, confusion, anxiety, it was all there.

But starkly against them all, one thudded in time to her wildly beating heart. It warmed her arteries frozen with fear and made her lips moisten.

Blinking open frightened eyes, she answered him honestly; the captivatingly strong emotion almost compelled her to grab the lapels of his jacket.

"Lust," she whispered in fear.

* * *

Remus swore strongly. Only an inch away from Hermione's face, his witch twitched in fear. He was rarely one to curse aloud, but this was damning indeed.

Internally, his wolf howled in delight.

He had the object of his desire backed against a tree; her perfume fused to his clothing. The hand above her head clawed into the tree bark. He was faintly aware of the sharp pain radiating from his fingertips. He didn't care that he pulled back his fingernails as he dug them into the bark.

What had his wolf _done_ to her?

Remus searched her eyes and knew her to be telling the truth. He had dim recollection of the actual act, choosing to close his mind off to his wolf's dark desires while lost to the moment. But once his wolf's needs were sated, Remus had come to slowly: a broken girl lay beneath him.

Had he truly forgotten the mark he had left upon her? His wolf hadn't and abruptly, he pulled on the link to his _paramour_ experimentally.

The witch closed her eyes and gasped. It was a delectable sound to his ears. The sweetest music.

Remus pulled away from Hermione sharply. He shook his head in disbelief, the moonlight bright upon both their heads. "You have to forgive me," he begged in a reverent whisper, his heartbeat beginning to climb.

Her eyes opened once more, twin orbs full of innocence. Gods, he would ruin her. "What is it?" Hermione asked desperately. "What does it mean?" When he didn't answer straightaway, she implored, "What do you know?"

Remus gave a dejected smile. All the while, his wolf leapt for joy. "I've haven't turned you into a werewolf, Hermione, as I imagine you've gathered," Remus began slowly, sensing her apprehension. Still, he calmly braced himself for the anger he knew to be coming. "I haven't marked you as my mate, either."

Desperation made her beg. "Please. Then, what is it?"

He looked up at the treetops, down to the ground, anywhere to avoid her piercing gaze. "Sometimes, in the height of emotion, a werewolf can mark a human of his choosing as their …" Remus stumbled over the terminology. "Werewolves call it a _paramour_." He waited for the inevitable fallout as she processed what he said.

Hermione's eyes widened and amber eyes filled with disbelief. "W-what?" she gasped softly.

Remus hesitantly took a step forward. Whether from shock or acceptance, Hermione did not move. But like all who knew her, he knew of her intelligence. He knew she was confirming the information he spoke aloud in her own mind. "The feelings you've felt. They are mine. They are multiplied from the mark that sits below your heart."

"No!" She shook her head, sending waves of curls defiantly across her neck. Her left hand flew protectively to her chest and covered the unseen mark he knew lay beneath her robes.

But Remus pressed, "Had I known, I would have told you before I left for France. You must believe me."

Hermione froze and leaned against the tree for support; her chest rose and fell in quick breaths. Vaguely, he could hear her muttering something to herself. He reached forward to stroke her arm, but she smacked his hand away.

"Get your hands off of me! I've gave something I can never get back and this is how you've repaid me. How am I supposed to trust you?" she seethed through clenched teeth, her temper mounting.

His normally calm demeanor had deteriorated. "As if I would ever purposefully do this to you? The divide between animal and man is a complex one-"

But Hermione was beyond hearing. "You mean to tell me what I've been feeling this entire time … have been your feelings?!" She confirmed incredulously.

Remus ran a weary hand through sandy brown hair. "I didn't recognize it until this moment, I swear! A bite such as … _that_ should not ache. When you mentioned your reception to feelings not of your own volition, I suspected what it was. "

"So you would have me come begging, then! Once wasn't enough!" Angry tears burst from her eyes.

"Hermione, please!" Remus roared and she reared back and slapped him hard across the face. Even though his skin burned from the contact, her barb cut deeper than any physical blow. He bit his bottom lip in anger, tasting the blood she had spilled. He inhaled harshly through his nostrils.

She accused indignantly, "_You_ know! You know what this means! I'll never have another lover. I'll never be … oh my God. Ron … oh my God …" She stumbled back and Remus did not care if she struck him again. He did not want her to face her newfound realities alone as he reached forward to comfort her. But she blocked his access to her person. "Stay away from me," she growled.

He paused at her command and she turned abruptly towards the way she came, her shawl tight in one fist. Apparently their conversation was over.

_It's not like she can escape you now anyway_, his wolf teased._ She'll be back. You made sure of it._ His wolf clucked at him in mischief and Remus screwed his eyes tight, the beginnings of a massive headache beginning to build.

He sat where he was amid the long grass, pinching the bridge of his nose. The situation had suddenly gone from difficult to infinitely worse.

Before werewolves found a mate which they would take for life, powerful ones could create _paramours_ if they so desired. Remus had first encountered the term _paramours_ during his travels with a pack across the Americas some years ago. Male wolves who had not yet found a mate tended to get a bit feisty before the full moon and to keep members of their pack from running astray and attacking local villagers; a mark was established, effectively creating a _paramour_. The recipient had to be willing and in return, 'available' to her _Ulfric _anytime he called. Even if the _Ulfric_ never called her, the recipient of the _paramouric_ mark would always feel a residual longing to be close to their _Ulfric. _

And Hermione's sweet offering in the Forbidden Forest had been the catalyst to Remus' newfound dilemma.

Unbeknownst to him, Remus had designated Hermione as his _paramour_. It did not encompass the same properties as a 'mate' in the sense of a term. He could take on others lovers if he wished. And while he could take other lovers, she could not physically be with another without feeling an unpleasant sensation.

In fact, he had never heard of _paramours_ being with another besides their _Ulfric_. Remus recalled a particular conversation with a raven-haired Peruvian werewolf during his time with her pack. She had described how felt complete she felt when in the presence of her _Ulfric_. It had been a lovely honor, she believed and the physical compulsion between them both had left Remus blushing afterwards.

Remus doubted Hermione would see it the same way.

Only if he found a mate, could his _paramour_ be released. But Dora had been Remus' one true mate in this world and now, she was gone. Unless the universe sent another his way, Hermione would forever be tied to his emotions, his call, and his yearnings.

Dropping his forehead into his hands, Remus sighed. Hermione would never be rid of him now. She would only be able to find release with him; she would curse him to Hades and back, but her body would be his to crudely use and satisfy with any of his wants or needs. And she would have no choice but to obey.

_Looks like you got exactly what you wanted, _his wolf chuckled darkly within. _You're welcome._

Remus had considered leaving in the morning but now, he would have to find a reason to inform Kingsley why he would not be able to join him on Ministry missions across the Strait any longer.

Looking towards the Burrow, still alight with celebration, Remus thought of a brunette witch in need of more help than she was willing to admit.

_To be continued..._

* * *

_AN: Thank you so much for all your reviews/favorites/alerts! They push me to write more for you all. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as this sets the stage for what our duo will be dealing with as an owl bearing the crest of Hogwarts appears next chapter!_


	5. Plans

Chapter Five: Plans

* * *

Groaning, Hermione awoke to a swath of fabric and pulled her pillow off her face, the thick taste of cotton drying her mouth. She had not imbibed much at the reception, so there was one confusing moment to remember when she had consumed so much alcohol. Right, she thought despondently as she wearily rubbed a hand against her eyes.

She had tried and failed to drown the crushing reality she had learned the night before. Ginny had been all too happy to share her portion of elf-wine and champagne with her friend. With every sip, Hermione tried to mute the penetrating sadness that was not her own. With her glass raised, she toasted her cares away, hoping it would take the damning facts with it.

Clearly, it had not worked.

What was she to do? Endless scenarios played in her mind and none of them were acceptable. She had been lured into a bond without her knowledge; she felt deceived. Betrayed by someone she thought a friend.

The rational part of her mind told her she was being unreasonable. Remus clearly had no intentions of ever binding her to him in such a way. If the sadness that still cocooned around her heart was any indication, he felt as horrible as she did at the moment.

But she refused to dwell on his sadness, this connection something she did not ask for nor want. Perhaps, she could find a way to sever their bond. What had he called it?

A _paramour_. Was she really someone's _paramour_? She toyed with the idea hazily in her mind.

"Wake up, Hermione!" Ginny's bright voice interrupted further thoughts on the matter. The red-head called through the room and peaked from behind the bedroom door. "I've never seen you have such a lie-in before," the youngest Weasley laughed, her footsteps approaching lightly towards Hermione's bed.

"Go away," Hermione mumbled half-heartedly, pulling the pillow back over her face. Godric, just speaking make her temples ache.

Ginny pulled the pillow back. Hermione groaned again as Ginny magicked the curtains open, sunlight promptly invaded her eyes. Ginny made a surprised face as she pushed the pillow playfully back over Hermione's head. "Never mind what I said. Continue to hide," she insisted with a chuckle. Hermione's hair was always a sight in the morning.

Hermione groaned under the pillow and though muffled through the fabric, replied, "Just leave a pepper-up potion by the bed. I don't plan on getting up at all today."

Ginny laughed outright, placing the corked bottle on the short nightstand. "Well, you're lucky I was able to sneak some off my brother. Poor Ron. He's been green all morning. I tried telling him he was drinking too much but of course, he never listens. You've should have seen him this morning, 'Mione. I didn't think I lived to see the day Ron would ever turn down food!"

The thought of food had Hermione going green around the edges. Hermione pushed the pillow off her face, her eyes shut; she was not ready to let the sunlight in. "Gin, just please hand me the potion and don't mention food ever again."

"Rough night?" Ginny asked playfully. Silence was her response and Hermione could hear the mood subtly change in her friend's tone. "You look awful. And not in a 'I-had-too-much-to-drink' way, either," Ginny observed. "Have … have you been crying?" she ventured, surprised.

Hermione opened what was sure to be red-rimmed eyes. "I feel as awful as I look," she said forlornly, failing to stop the tears from gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"Hermione? What's happened?" Sitting down on the bed, the witch pulled a compliant Hermione into a tight hug. "Is it my brother? I swear, if he's done –" The beginnings of a punishment to come seeped into her voice.

Hermione laid her head on Ginny's shoulder struggling not to cry. She had done too much of that last night. "No! No, it's nothing to do with Ron. It's…" Hermione thought quickly. Remus _did_ say she should speak with others about this, but she was too embarrassed to tell the truth. Especially since it now entailed a bond she knew nothing about. Perhaps it would be better to wait until she could research the bond on her own. Then she would confide in her friend. For now, a partial lie would have to do. "I was thinking of my parents last night. Your entire family, everyone really, has so much to celebrate after such loss. And seeing everyone so happy for once …" she trailed off lamely, pulling back from Ginny's embrace.

Ginny pulled Hermione back in for a quick hug. "Of course the wedding would make you think of your Mum and Dad. I'm so sorry, I didn't notice at all last night." She released her and gave her shoulders a reaffirming squeeze.

"Well, it was your brother's wedding, after all. I'm sure you had other duties to attend to." Hermione sniffled loudly, taking a few of the tissues Ginny had summoned from across the room. Hermione tried valiantly not to think of her own wedding to a certain red-headed Weasley. It would likely never come true now. Particularly if he knew the truth.

"Still doesn't mean I ignore my friend when she's upset." Ginny frowned at herself. "Harry's been seeing this specialty Healer at St. Mungo's, y'know? Something about post-traumatic whatever-it's-called." They told him it would be a while before any of us really returned to normal … with everything." Ginny fiddled with edges of the frayed bedding. "She said random episodes of depression were normal and to be expected," she explained helpfully.

Except this lingering depression Hermione was drowning in wasn't entirely her own. She bet Harry's Healer never mentioned anything about that. "What did she suggest to counter it?" Hermione nonchalantly asked, downing the pepper-up potion with a shudder.

"Oh, normal things. Whatever witches and wizards our age typically do," she replied sarcastically. "The key is to go easy on ourselves." Hermione gathered that fighting in a war was not typical teenaged behavior.

"And how exactly does one do that?" Hermione asked.

"Beats me. I'm not the Healer. Speak to Harry if you want more specifics."

"Well, I'm glad he's talking to someone," Hermione replied as she lifted her wrinkled party dress over her head, grateful to be out of the ruined frock. Catching Ginny's dejected look, Hermione rushed after she hastily pulled on a more comfortable top. "It's not a bad thing that Harry's speaking with a Healer, Gin. The fact that he's shared these things with you means he trusts you a lot. A Healer who specializes in these things would best know how to circumvent the difficulties Harry's been through and the emotions stemming from it."

Ginny stood from the bed abruptly and smiled falsely. "Oh, I know. I mean, it's just that my boyfriend can share these things with a complete stranger, but the possibility of sharing with someone close to him, someone who's been through it all with him is too far-fetched. It's just … surreal sometimes, y'know?"

Hermione pursued her lips and tried not to say much more. For all her part in the war, Hermione did not think Ginny had been 'through it all' with Harry, but chose to remain mum on that front. "It's understandable. Thanks for the potion, I'm feeling a bit better."

The sincerity of Ginny's smile reached her eyes. "Great! You've missed breakfast and lunch, but I'm sure we can scrounge up some sandwiches or a pot of coffee. Your hair…" Ginny watched as Hermione haphazardly pulled her curls up into a bun and bit back a grin. "… looks fine! Come on, let's go." She tugged at the older witch.

Hermione slowly descended the flights of stairs towards the Weasley's family kitchen. The pepper-up potion made it so all the lingering smells from Molly's lunch didn't make her keel over, but she would need something on her stomach. Even if the idea of food sent her stomach right side up.

Her heart stitched as she followed behind Ginny in the kitchen. Ron and Harry lounged easily at the table, their conversation light. George had joined them as well. The joy of last night's celebration bled over it seemed and in spite of their collective hangovers, the group continued as if nothing had happened. They certainly hadn't discovered that a werewolf that had magically bound them to be at-will lover last night.

"George's a bit down now that Fred's off. Harry and Ron won't stop teasing him," Ginny offered to Hermione's ear as the witches neared the table. Hermione sat stiffly next to Ron, who smiled at her in greeting. He was still slightly pale, but gave her a brilliant smile and kiss to the forehead. Her heart sank again.

"Mornin' or should I say afternoon? Sleep alright?" Ron waggled his brows at her suggestively.

How could she ever explain to him, to them all, what had occurred last night? "Too much celebrating, I suppose," she responded sullenly, forcing a firm smile to reinforce that she was alright.

Ginny laughed as she picked up a sandwich. "I've never seen you knock back so many glasses in one setting, 'Mione. You were going for the record back there."

_Or just trying to escape your new station in life,_ a sinister thought entered her head. Hermione struggled to chortle along with the rest of them. "Right. So, how are you holding up George?" she asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee, adeptly steering the conversation back to lone twin.

They spoke a bit about business at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and the progress of clean-up in Diagon Alley. George cheerfully informed them that the Alley would be opened soon and both he and Fred fully intended to run the store with Angelina after they returned from their honeymoon.

Hermione was in the middle of lifting her mug to her to her mouth when her hand shook, unexpectedly startled. Heat radiated from her chest and it wasn't from embarrassment or the heat-insulating kitchen. Forebodingly, she looked up as Remus entered the room with Molly.

Refusing to make eye contact with the wizard, she quickly lowered her gaze to the black liquid inside her mug and tried to steady her breathing. She couldn't draw attention to herself. While pretending to be engaged in what her boyfriend was speaking about with Harry, her heart hammered behind her chest cavity. Sneaking glances as he moved about the kitchen, Hermione could feel heat begin to spread over her neck and ears. But Remus moved out of her peripheral and she lost sight of him as he moved behind her and Ron, pulling dishes from cabinets unseen.

Scattered "Hey Remus" and "Good afternoon's" greeted the werewolf. From what little she had observed, it wasn't hard to guess that he had seen little sleep as well. Hermione chose not to dwell on the reason why. Immaturely, she was somewhat pleased he hadn't slept well either.

Nervously, she fiddled with the handle of her mug, the tear in her jeans at her knee, anything to keep her hands busy. All the while her heartbeat stuck up a frightening tattoo as Remus continued to rummage for food behind her. Aside from his reply and salutation to the group of young wizards, Remus steadily ignored the group's conversation, her included. Hermione surmised he wasn't looking to out their predicament to everyone any more than she was.

Replaying their conversation from the night before, she resolved to find her way to the library as soon as there was a moment.

The mug that had been partly lifted to her lips slammed down to the wooden surface as she started. Tepid coffee sloshed all over her hand. "Don't!" she yelped and nearly jumped off the bench at the contact. Someone had placed a gentle, warm hand on her shoulder. Her eyes stared straight ahead, focusing on a spot above Harry's shoulder; she refused to look at who touched her.

"What's gotten into you, 'Mione?" Ron noticed her obvious skittishness, his playful mood sliding slowly off his face. He removed his hand from her shoulder and back to his lap as Harry and the others regarded her. Oh, it was just Ron.

Great, she had drawn their attention and now felt the weight of their eyes upon her. With two erratic beats of her heart, she feared they_ knew!_

Remus had gone still behind her as well and the room patiently waited for an explanation behind her outburst.

She shook her head, wishing she had opted to let her hair hang free instead of pulling it up; she was absolutely positive the entire room could see the blush staining her neck. "Sorry," she spoke quietly. "I'm not feeling well," she offered lamely, standing up from the table. "I need to go." Gods, that sounded so pathetic in her mind, so she wasn't surprised to see Ron following behind her.

"What's with you?" he asked when they were alone.

How could she tell him? Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, but in that moment, staring into her boyfriend's blue eyes, she could only lie.

"I've been thinking a lot about my parents lately," she began and supposed that was only a partial lie. She _had_ been thinking about them these past few weeks. "I was speaking with Ginny earlier. With the wedding and all, I've been thinking about them more and more in Australia."

"Okay," Ron nodded.

She crossed her arms, afraid he would be able to suss out the tremors in her hands. "I just zoned out back there. Forgive me."

Ron shrugged, a half-smile on his face. "Believe me, you're not the only one who zones out every now again. You need to go easy on yourself, love." He patted a hand on her shoulder affectionately.

Her heart froze in her stomach at the term of endearment. Looking down at the tips of her trainers, Hermione nodded, blinking the tears away furiously before rising to meet Ron's concerned glare. "I want to go to Grimmauld and see what I can find out about memory charms. I'm pretty sure I know what to do to reverse the charm, but I want to be sure."

Ron smiled at the familiar witch from Hogwarts peeking through. "Of course, do you want me and Harry to come with you?" He was offering because he cared, but because she knew them oh-so well, she replied in the negative.

"Thanks, but you don't have to. It will probably take a while. I'm going to grab a few things from upstairs, then I'll Apparate over. Tell Harry for me?" She started moving towards the stairs.

As soon as Ron agreed, Hermione fled to her room, grabbed her wand and a light jacket ready to Apparate to Grimmauld Place. Only she wasn't going to research lifting memory charms. She was going to find everything she could about werewolves and _paramours_.

* * *

Hermione returned to the Burrow late in the evening, a bundle of parchment and notes under one arm. Time always passed quickly for her whenever lost in the stacks of a library and her time spent in the Black family library was no different. She poured through varying texts on magical creatures, hoping against hope to come across something that negated with Remus had told her last night.

Although she tried not to dwell on it, she could steadily feel, what she now knew to be, Remus' emotions during her entire stay at the former headquarters for the Order. Light strands of sadness and longing pulled at her heartstrings, but she willfully ignored it.

Focusing back on the texts before her, she found plenty on what it meant to be mated to a werewolf and to be honest, it sounded a truly wonderful thing. She imagined briefly if she and Ron were destined to find one another, born exclusively for the other, with a love so strong and revered. A bond between mates seemed unrivaled in every way. It was a nice fantasy for sure.

As soon as she set to leave, a decided happiness accompanied her impending arrival. She squashed the feeling flat.

Now staring at the red front door of the Burrow, she thought it all rubbish, a particularly nasty end of a raw deal. _Paramours_ were nothing but slaves to their _Ulfric's_ (was Remus her _Ulfric_ now?) will, playthings to be used physically then cast aside when the moment had passed. She frowned, willing herself not to cry.

All was not lost and she refused to give up after one day's research. There were more libraries, more ancient texts she could scour through. She would pour through them all as if studying for her never-taken N.E.W.T.s until she had found an answer.

Steeling herself, Hermione pushed open the door to find the Burrow alight with activity. Two owls had just left through an open window and she spotted letters in the hands of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. In fact, Ginny carried two in her hand and now spotted, the red head bounced excitedly over towards Hermione.

"You have to read this! It just came a few minutes ago. Can you believe it?" the youngest Weasley asked eagerly.

Her curiosity thoroughly peaked, Hermione took the piece of parchment from Ginny's waiting hand. Sliding her notes on _paramours_ into her back pocket, she read silently.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_This letter is to inform you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will open and resume classes September 1__st__, 1998. I am pleased to relay that our school has been completely refurbished and is once again ready to receive students. It is our hope to impart a sound magical education in light of our inability to do so last year._

_Due to uncontrollable events and poor management at Hogwarts last year, many were not able to receive a proper education. After discussion with newly-installed school governors, we are extending the opportunity for those who wish to return to Hogwarts and complete their education the opportunity to do so. _

_Those who wish to repeat their seventh year will be given the opportunity to do so as well._

_Many of you fought valiantly in the Second Great War, and as such, will be treated as the of-age witches and wizards you have proven to be. While special privileges will be granted to those who wish to return, I expect your full dedication and commitment towards the completion of your magical education._

_Please send me your response no later than 31 July. The list of school texts for the coming year will be sent directly, once I have heard back regarding your decision._

_Hogwarts looks forward to welcoming all of you home._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Can you believe it?" Ginny pulled Hermione further out of the doorway. "Harry and Ron got one too. I wonder if the others did?" she wondered aloud, her eyes far away in thought.

"This is … certainly an interesting development," Hermione muttered as she read and re-read the missive again. She dropped the note and observed her friends' expressions.

Harry looked surprised, maybe a little stunned. Ron was flustered.

"Honestly, we spent a year fighting Death Eaters and our reward is to go _back_ to Hogwarts?!" He thrust his letter at her as she neared his side. "Harry, please tell me you aren't considering this!"

Harry was slow to respond, but suddenly a smile lit his features. "And why not, I think a bit of normalcy is well deserved, don't you? It would be nice to go through a year properly without the threat of Voldemort."

Ron looked the same shade of green as he did that morning. "But it's … it's homework and essays and N.E.W.T.s."

Molly interjected. "And I expect you to pass all your N.E.W.T.s, Ronald. It's bad enough your brothers dropped out before you. At least my two youngest will properly graduate and obtain respectable careers." She preened at George, who stood by smirking. Full of pride, Molly pulled Ginny into a hug. "You dears certainly deserve it."

"Come on, Ron. It's also Quidditch as well. It'll be fun," Harry put forth.

Ron sulked and turned towards his girlfriend. "Well, at least I already know what your answer is."

But to everyone's surprise Hermione could only shrug her shoulders and announce that she would 'think about it'. Chatter she wasn't yet ready to be a part of dwindled the rest of the evening as Ginny received owls from her friends confirming they had received Professor McGonagall's letter as well. It seemed all but certain that Ginny was going to attend in the fall. She seemed very eager for a normal year, ideally with the boy-who-lived-and-conquered on her arm.

Ron had not made up his mind, but Hermione figured with goading from his mother and Harry's decision to return, he would join his friend as well. Harry still looked on the fence and sat back on the worn sofa as Ginny did most of the talking and planning for the both of them.

It was overwhelming to be sure, but her earlier conversation with Ginny rang in her ears. Didn't she mention something about 'doing what normal teenagers do' as a way of coping? Her old self would have jumped at the chance to go back to school, enthusiastically sent her reply to Professor McGonagall that night in fact. Hogwarts was her home and she would flourish in her 'true' seventh year without undue worry or needing to save her friends from certain peril. The thought had merit.

But the bunch of parchment from her research at Grimmauld crunched in her back pocket. Maybe she could complete more of her research at Hogwarts' expansive library? McGonagall did mention 'special privileges' for those returning and Hermione greedily thought of access to the restricted section of Hogwarts' library.

Later she found herself alone, perched on the edge of the sofa in the now quiet living room pondering the pros and cons when a voice startled her from her thoughts.

"I heard some interesting news came in the post today. Is it true?" Of course, Remus was still here, but she had been too caught in her thoughts to notice his presence. She gathered he was referring to the hub-bub early that night, of which, he had been notably absent from.

Hermione looked out the opened window, relishing the summer night. She refused to meet his stare. Her trust with him had been fractured. "It is. They're re-opening Hogwarts this fall. We've been given the chance to complete our seventh year, properly. Ginny can also re-do her year if she chooses. Which it seems, she has."

Remus continued to stare at her. She didn't have to see it to know it to be true.

"Hermione, do you intend to return back to Hogwarts?"

Hermione crossed her arms, eyes on the night sky. "I hadn't made a decision in the matter, but I think the idea's agreeable," she answered non-committedly.

"Do you think it wise putting so much distance between us … given our circumstances?"

Still not looking at him, her voice rose, incensed. "If you're implying that I lie around and wait around for–"

Remus interrupted her sternly. "Keep your voice down, you'll alert the others."

In a lower voice, she continued just as sharply. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she swung to face him for the first time. "I hope you weren't expecting me to willfully become your _paramour_. _I_ make my own decisions, not you, and not some magical bond. And if I choose to return to Scotland in the fall, then I will. And not you or your wolf will stop me," she finished strongly.

Remus, wisely, did not move forward. "I'm not trying to stop you. But the fact remains. And seeing how no one has assaulted me or come to arrest me, I'm assuming you haven't told anyone of our … arrangement."

"There is no _arrangement_ between us," Hermione hissed, affronted.

"The full moon is nearing, Hermione. Say that to me again in nearly a week."

Hermione smirked coldly and turned back for the open window. "I'm going to visit my parents in Australia next week. I could care less if the full moon approaches." She sounded emotionless, but truthfully, she wanted it to hurt a little.

"Ow!" A sharp pain had her rubbing her chest. She didn't know how much it would hurt the werewolf, but her intentional barb ended up wounding herself. "Look," she backtracked, still rubbing at the sore spot. "I'm sorry, but we don't have to make this harder than need be. I can be willing to move on and forget this, but that means you have to as well. _Paramour_ bond or not, there is always a way to nullify these types of things. You said so yourself, I'm not your mate so –" She started to stand up from the edge of the couch, but her legs had temporarily fallen asleep.

Her balance lost, Hermione tilted and without warning found an arm around her middle, the other crossed her back and pulled her in close. She hadn't even seen him move and now she peered into dark brown eyes.

Remus' breath was sweet across her face; he smelt of chocolate as fingers massaged into her shoulder blades. "You may not be my mate, but that mark beneath your bra says you are mine," Remus whispered into her ear, his whiskers tickling the side of her face.

He impressed his need onto her through their bond and Hermione sagged against his arms. He held her up perfectly.

Sighing, she relaxed as the wolf inhaled her hair and neck, his arms tightening slowly about her person. Strong fingers bunched up her clothes and she struggled feebly in his arms. "Don't fret, sweetheart, I won't force myself on you ever again," he spoke into her neck. "There is no need for it."

He suddenly released her and she gasped at the loss of support holding her upright. She tumbled backwards onto the couch. At a loss for words, she could only breathe to steady her heart and rubbed her legs together against the uncomfortable wetness that had gathered there.

Remus stood over her as she lay on the couch. "This magic can't be nullified and try as you may, it can't be ignored."

Broken of the spell, she icily informed him, "Forcing your will upon me is the same thing as forcing yourself physically. It is no different in my eyes," she spat at him from the couch. "Are you content to ruin my life?" she hissed sharply.

Dangerously, he lowered to a squat beside the couch, eye level with her. Something akin to irritation played behind his eyes. After a tense moment, he replied tersely, "Go to Australia next week. But know that I would never wish any pain upon you ever again." He lifted from the ground. "It seems my wolf has plans for you, Ms. Granger."

She watched him move into the dark of the house amid a torrent of emotions. Just then, the threat of going Scotland, or even Australia, didn't seem far enough for her. His wolf had plans, he had said. But what had her leaping from the couch in fear was the morbid curiosity at what those plans entailed.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_A/N: Please review! I love hearing what you think and about where we're headed! Much love to you all for the alerts, favorites and reviews! xx_


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